


More Alike Than You Think

by centreoftheselights



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/F, Kissing, Manipulation, Mystery, Pickpockets, Post-Canon, Tumblr Prompt, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan discovers a mysterious gift the same day Moriarty breaks out of prison; she knows it wasn't meant for her, but she goes to meet Moriarty in Sherlock's place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Alike Than You Think

**Author's Note:**

> Written [in response to a prompt](http://centrumlumina.tumblr.com/post/62732365050/elementary-fic-more-alike-than-you-think) from Tumblr user theviolonist: "elementary, joan/irene, we're more alike than you think"

When Joan sees the flowers on the kitchen table, she’s surprised. It’s been a long while since anyone sent her a romantic gift, but she can’t imagine Sherlock as the recipient either.

Irises, tall and slender and vibrantly purple. Her favourite flower, not that many people know that. Perhaps one of her exes is back in town and looking to rekindle the romance.

Then she sees the card. There’s no name, no signature. Just numbers – time and co-ordinates – autographed with a single letter.

“Watson!”

Sherlock’s footsteps are on the stairs, and Joan doesn’t hesitate. She slips the card into her pocket and dumps the bouquet into the bin.

“We have to get to the station right away!”

She already knows what he’s about to say.

“It seems Moriarty has broken loose.”

 

The investigation is a mad rush, an impossible trail of clues which leads them all around the city. Not through Central Park, though – and it’s into the park that Joan’s phone says the co-ordinates lead.

She knows that she should tell the others what she knows, that they’re looking in all the wrong directions. But this has to be handled right. It shouldn’t be her call to make, but it is, and somehow she can’t let it go.

She waits until the last possible moment to make her excuses to leave.

Sherlock knows, of course. He tells her in a quiet murmur that he understands, that he found the flowers in the trash, that he respects her need for privacy but he will not interfere with her “new admirer”. That Moriarty is his obsession, not hers, and she is free to go.

She rolls her eyes. “Call me the second you find something.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

 

She’s waiting on a bench. Moriarty. Irene. _Her_.

“Not who you were expecting?” Joan asks.

“Quite to the contrary.” She smiles. “Lovely to see you again, Watson. Please sit.”

Joan hesitates, but does so. She’s already come this far.

“You knew I would come?” She can’t even bring herself to sound surprised.

“Of course,” Moriarty says. “I fascinate you; you wonder how a woman like me could possibly come to exist. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my invitation. And I know that you will not hesitate to handcuff me to this bench if you deem me a threat.”

Joan’s fingers tighten on the cuffs in her front pocket, hidden from view by her jacket.

“You’re already a threat.”

“But you can’t quite make yourself believe that, can you?” Moriarty leans in close. “A part of you knows that I will not harm a hair on your head. Or Sherlock’s, for that matter.”

“So, you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Merely returning the favour.” There’s a bright glint in her eyes, and Joan can’t look away. “It took me some effort, I admit, but we are more alike than you think.”

“You really think I can’t surprise you again?”

“No,” Moriarty says simply. “But I would love to see you try.”

That’s all the in Joan needs.

She surges forwards, raking one hand through Moriarty’s loose golden curls, and pulls her in for a fierce kiss. It’s the most passion she’s allowed herself in a long time, and Moriarty responds with more energy than Joan had expected from her, gripping tight to Joan’s waist. Everything about this feels desperate, frenzied, hopelessly distracting.

With her free hand, Joan reaches carefully into Moriarty’s jacket, and flicks what she finds there – credit card? ID? – up her own sleeve.

When they pull apart, both breathing hard, Moriarty shakes her head.

“Much appreciated, I assure you,” she says. “But not surprising at all.”

 “I’ll try to be more original next time,” Joan replies, and it sounds far more sincere than she’d intended.

“It’s a hotel key, by the way. To my room.” With a sinking feeling, Joan realises Moriarty is aware of the stolen card. “You’re welcome to join me there when you get free.”

Joan moves a millisecond too late, and the handcuffs click into place on her wrist, pinning her arm to the back of the bench. She tugs against it, but the metal doesn’t budge.

Moriarty gets to her feet. “Of course, you could call for help. But I have much better plans for this evening. I do hope you can join me.”

As she turns and walks away, Joan lets the card drop out of her sleeve into the palm of her hand.

“This is blank!” she calls after the retreating woman.

Moriarty glances back with one last dazzling smile.

“Oh, and Joan? Bring those handcuffs with you.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] More Alike Than You Think](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284857) by [croissantkatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/croissantkatie/pseuds/croissantkatie)




End file.
